Canción
by Lys de Pluie
Summary: There always was a reason when he hated something. If he wanted not to sing, then just leave him be! - SpeRo, rated for Romano's foul mouth


**_AN_**_ : Written for the kink meme. Kink was 'Spain singing _I love you mi Vida_ by D'Nash and Romano getting turned on by it'. This took me longer, MUCH longer than it should have. I'm slow.  
Anyway, enjoy, comment if you liked. Rated for Romano's foul mouth, mostly._

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Who was the idiot who had had the idea again? It surely wasn't him, Romano was not that stupid.

Someone else happened to be though, apparently.

Why on Earth would a sane person want to have a sing contest? There was no point in all that, and the only benefit in all this was that those nasty people he hated (not naming names – Germany and England) would go out with a headache too. He had no reason to be here, because he didn't like singing and hated listening to others even more. His voice wasn't bad, it was just that... well, Veneziano had been tagging along. Just like that. And everyone would be blabbering about how cute the little guy was, and his voice was better anyway, so there was no point in Romano following as well, but he still somehow had. He swore to himself not to be convinced this easily any more in the future.

Right now, China was singing a song he had already forgotten the name of. Not like he had actually made an effort to remember, it was in Chinese, which Romano happened not to speak. The only reason he had to come here in this hell in the first place was because of the person next to him. "Come with us Roma~! It's no fun if you stay home alone, and I want you to be with me!"

He had not been affected by those words. At all. He was just feeling sorry for the Spaniard if he went to see all those other nations alone.

With a grunt he let his head fall on the table they were seated on. The room was rather dark, and filled with round tables and chairs in front of the stage (because of course, there had to be a stage in this fucking place), which was the only lit place. Colors were bouncing around the wooden floor, drowning the Chinese man along with them in a colorful wave. The lights were mostly red, and the Italian supposed that the current singer could chose the colors.

_Fucking_ _great_.

He let out a sigh when his arm was being pocked and he felt a Spanish breath much too close to himself, but did not react otherwise. Why had he been convinced again? When he was being pocked a little harder, he lifted his head up in exasperation with a look that clearly read 'let my die in peace and shut up', but when he was the receiver of that bright smile that was such a strong characteristic of his former guardian, he remembered who he had to deal with.

Dense and dim-witted Spain.

Who, of course, didn't get the message at all.

"Are you tired Roma?" he wanted to say 'yes' but that was too much of an effort. He chose to look at him with a blank expression instead, and Spain's smile faltered just a tiny bit (this was a detail you could only notice when you had lived with him long enough). "Oh, well... I didn't sing yet, neither did you, why don't we chose a song to-"

"Do I _really_ look like I want to sing right now?"

Spain made a pout "Aww, come one, Roma, can you at least wait until it is my turn to sing? It should be soon, there are not too many people left." Romano turned to face the table, and crashed his head against it once more. After a thirty seconds pause where he didn't say anything, Spain pocked him again.

_Bastard_.

"Fine, but hurry up. And if my headache increases because of you, you'll sleep outside."

"We're at my place, Romano."

"I don't fucking care."

He heard a muttered 'So not cute' but chose to ignore it, as it would require energy to punch the Spaniard and he was too tired for that crap. Spain's brain decided to kick in at that point.

"You know, Roma, my voice is actually pretty decent." a grumble was his only response. "You don't remember when I used to sing you lullabies in Spanish?" This time, he received a murmured "Over four fucking centuries ago, dumbass. No I don't.", and another silence made him realize that China had finished his song. The room burst into applause, and the Asian blushed when he jumped down the stage, microphone still in hands. He lifted it and called "Who wants to sing next, aru?", that was the point when Spain leaped to his feet, but not before sending Romano a little 'This will be fore you, okay~?' and ran towards the shorter man.

Romano didn't even lift his head at the words. His heart had suddenly made a strange kind of jump, a mix between annoyance and joy ; what kind of song was he going to perform? He banged his head against the table this time, letting out a grunt, when he heard the beginning of the melody (at least it was nothing to put him to sleep – you never knew with that guy). The guitar resonated in the air a few seconds, and then a voice rose.

_Ven hacia mi  
Descubre el amor_

Where had he heard that again?...

_Ven hacia mi  
Siente mi pasión  
Tu' ven hacia mi  
Como el escorpión  
Que endulza con su herida_

Romano could tell Spain's eyes were closed, even from the distance, for he was always passionate when it came to what he _truly_ was, everything that from near or afar was resembling anything Spanish. The more he thought about it, the more he was persuaded he knew that song, his brain just didn't seem to be very cooperative at the instant.

It seemed his eyes weren't really listening to him either, as they were stubbornly locked on the Spaniard's moving silhouette.

Damn, no, he was _not_ staring.

_Hay besos de mi  
Que nadie robo_

Spain's words finally somehow managed to kick in ; "This will be for you" he had said, so that meant... No, his Spanish had gotten worse. Terribly. There was no way that an oblivious idiot like him would ever understand anything about something subtle like l-

lo-

He didn't even want to _think_ the word. It was just going too much against nature.

_Hay versos en mi  
Que nadie escucho  
Tu ven hacia mi_

Unfortunately for Romano...

_Como el corazón  
Que en mi se clavaría_

Heaven wasn't cooperative in the slightest either. Nor was his body.

"This could get problematic" Romano whispered.

_No mires atrás ningún día  
Atrevete a dar corazón_

There was no way he was going to stay here. Bastard must have planned everything. From his discomfort to the buzzing in his pants to his rapid heartbeat to the butterflies in his stomach and _fucking damn it all_, why was it so damn _hot_? He _really_ needed something to cool off now. Not that he was feeling any different because Spain was currently singing with a deep and rich voice to a song he had said was for him (for _him_?), and that he was looking at the way the Spaniard's body was moving (had he just _shaken_ his _ass_?), because he was not. He was probably just bothered by all those people around him cheering and clapping in their hands and shouting. All too damn loud.

_I love you mi vida_

He stood up, there was no way he could stand it anymore. And Spain had chosen _that_ song! (He had finally remembered where he had heard it, and if Romano had known, he would never have told him that the Spanish band wasn't all that awful at the _Eurovision_ that year. Ever.) Probably just to annoy him further.

Not like he was meaning anything the song was about, he bitterly thought.

He walked as fast and discreetly as possible to the bathroom, without even one last glance at the stage or the singing Spaniard.

(- -)

The water was cold, and he was glad for that fact. Cold water was the best thing he could think of at the moment. He took a bit of the crystalline liquid in his hands, and splashed it all over his face, letting his finger linger on his flushed (_flushed?_) cheeks to calm himself down a bit more.

He repeated this action a few times without, to his dismay, any noticeable change.

Until that _very stupid_ _thing_ happened.

The very stupid thing being, minutes later, someone knocking at the door, causing Romano to jump, and his fingers to somehow entangle themselves in his hair curl. His hair and hands being wet, it only elicited a worse reaction when they somehow stuck to each other and he had to tear his fingers away with a sharp cry of "_CHIGI!_". To top it all, the person decided to enter at that moment, and it happened to be that very person Romano was desperately trying _not_ to think about.

Spain was staring at him (with that damn clueless expression!), and the Italian felt just as hot as before, if not even more. Which apparently didn't stay unnoticed, as the man came closer to him, brows furrowed, talking.

The problem was, Romano noticed, that he didn't _understand_ what the other was saying. He couldn't keep track of the words, they were just floating in the air, quiet and unnoticed, absent and still.

He was now in front of him, still speaking about something that was _very_ probably _very_ stupid anyway, and there was no reason he would have to keep on talking which meant he needed to shut up. Immediately. There was no way Romano could hold back if he kept on touching his forehead this way with his face remaining that close.

"Shut _up_." he demanded, painfully aware of how hot his whole body was.

Spain pouted at the words "Roma... Why did you leave? I wasn't even done! When I came back from the stage you had already left and nobody could tell me where you were, I was worried!"

He could not honestly be serious, could he?...

"It was just... so damn embarrassing and-"

"Why embarrassing?" he looked genuinely confused now. And to Romano, this was enough for Spain to deserve a headbutt. Couldn't he read between lines? A quick look at the moving form at his feet told him that no, because of course. It was _Spain_ he was thinking about. He stood up, as if he had never been hit in the stomach.

"So, at what point did you leave?"

"… How the fuck should I remember?"

Spain tapped his chin pensively. "Did I already start the refrain?"

Now that he thought about it, that might have been the moment he had left the room ; things were getting a little too tight southwards for him to handle. The lack of response apparently was enough for Spain to make that goddamn stupid moronic idiotic good looking (N-no! Not good-looking!) characteristic grin of his.

And that grin meant... no!

_Desgarra mi vida_

He whispered into Romano's ear, dangerously close. The Italian could feel blood rush to his face, as well as to other places he was mortified reacted that way. Before he knew it, Spain had gotten even closer, and was it him and his wishful thinking, or did he act like that on purpose?

"H-hey, get away f-from me, you goddamn-" his protests were cut short when Spain almost touched his face to his, breathing and whispering against his cheek.

_Y pártela en dos_

_Que se hundan mis días_

Skin on fire.

_Si todo es mentira_

Lips so goddamn close...

_Y pierdo tu amor_

_The power of love_

"Moronic bastard!" and with those words, Romano grabbed Spain's hips, whirled round and slammed him against the wall he hadn't realized his back was against mere seconds before. Spain's breathing was cut short, and the Italian didn't give him any time to rest as he had already pressed his lips against that intoxicating pink skin ; passionately, violently, demandingly.

The kiss broke a first time when Spain made it _absolutely_ clear he had no intention in dying of lack of oxygen, grabbing Romano's hair tightly and pulling them apart. He was breathless, more so than he thought, panting heavily, but if the way the Italian looked at him was anything to go by, he would have to resume that vital activity later. He took another quick breath, faces almost touching, both their hands slightly trembling, crashed his lips against Romano's. No thinking, just the presence and the feelings and the _touches_ (when had their hands started to explore...?).

Romano's fingers were fidgeting, sloppily unbuttoning Spain's shirt, when the latter's hands shot up to grab his wrists tightly.

"You..." he panted. "I don't think..." Romano stared at him, fear of rejection rearing its head while the situation somehow started to sink in. "This is not the right place..." he finally whispered next to his ear.

"I don't care." The southern part of Italy breathed out, understanding his words once he had already said them.

"You do." Spain laughed at his words. "And if anything wrong happened, I'd be the one to get blamed for it." and 'blamed by Romano' was just a way to mildly put 'get anything in a five meter radius thrown at you while being drowned in curses'. Spain had already experienced that. _Way too many times._

"ANYTHING WRONG?" Well, that sure got him out of his torpor. What was Spain thinking he was? A blushing virgin? Unexperienced? Or that he had no... masculine pride?

"Well, you know, like someone coming in and interrupting..."

Oh. _Oh._ That kind of things going wrong. Well, better find a place where nothing would happen, then.

He did _not_ just think that.

"Okay, great." they parted. "_Bastardo_." He turned around, made a move for the door, before he was being pulled back, against that warm body.

"Will you stay tonight, if I ask you to?" Spain whispered into his ear.

"...It's not like I have a choice." a content sigh close to his cheek made him add, quickly, "I'm not doing this for you, okay? Don't look so smug!".

Spain didn't let go of him, on the contrary, his embrace tightened. At this point, Romano got suspicious.

"Tell me you didn't plan this." he said, but to his grand dismay was granted no response. "Hey!" he tried to whirl around, but could just feel a smile against his skin. And a murmured wisp of song.

"_I love you mi vida_…"


End file.
